


Double-Blind Study

by EvilMuffins



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Blindfolds, Hand Feeding, M/M, Mention of Past Abuse, implied one-sided shukita
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/pseuds/EvilMuffins
Summary: “You know, Kitagawa,” Akechi began, telling a joke for an audience comprised of himself, the liquid in his cup drinking up his smile as he held it to his lips, “It’s funny, isn’t it? How I have the means to eat whatever I’d like on a given night, and yet I only ever order what’s been recommended to me, while you on the other hand, tragically suffering for the sake of your art, actually care about the taste of food. ‘The grass is always greener’, and all that, wouldn't you say?”---Yusuke teaches Akechi the fine art of appreciating one's food.





	Double-Blind Study

**Author's Note:**

> Tis I, your local hand-feeding enthusiast back at it again. 
> 
> This was definitely inspired by both of their food preference blurbs in the artbook. They're so delightfully contrasting. Happy pocky day?
> 
> Edit: 6/14/18- Portions re-written

“If this party is really meant for me,” Akechi flipped another page in the cookbook without so much as glancing over it, instead flashing a smile across the booth toward Yusuke, “then why am I going to be doing the cooking myself?”

“Because,” Yusuke replied, running his finger down the index page of the book set before him, “The Phantom Thieves operate as a team, even in our day to day lives.”

“Is that why Kurusu goes out without you every night?” Akechi took a sip of his coffee, giving up on the pretense of searching through recipes for the moment. “To build team morale?”

“Time spent apart is important as well,” Yusuke replied, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. He really should get it cut, he thought, although he couldn’t afford it. “We all have our own lives and hobbies outside of the group, of which it would be unhealthy for us not to indulge every now and again. I’d say that I’m sure you’re the same, however I’ve been led to believe that you’re a very busy man- Ah. There we are.”

“Find what you’re looking for?”

“Yes,” Yusuke replied confidently.

“Pancakes?” Akechi tiled his head at the book Yusuke pushed toward him. “Why those? Do the Phantom Thieves always welcome new members into their ranks with sticky breakfast foods?” He wiggled his gloved fingers, demonstrating the fact that he’d rather not ruin them with syrup.

“Oh?” Yusuke mirrored Akechi's puzzlement. “Akira told me that you enjoy them. Was he mistaken?”

“Well, I mean, I might have mentioned them at one point." Akechi shrugged. "It’s not that I dislike them, it’s just that I’ll eat anything more or less. The assumption of shared taste in food is a good way of endearing yourself to the people paying for your meals, but that’s about it for me.”

“You mean that you don’t have a preference? Nothing you might call a favorite?” Although Yusuke couldn’t afford to eat as he wished, that hardly stopped him from entertaining wild fantasies of drowning himself in premium sushi. It was difficult for him to imagine what it must have been like not having strong preferences in food. Ever since he was a child, Yusuke had noticed that he tended to have harbor stronger feelings over things than did others- food, art... people. It often tended to be more of a curse than a blessing.

“You know, Kitagawa,” Akechi began, telling a joke for an audience comprised of himself, the liquid in his cup drinking up his smile as he held it to his lips, “It’s funny, isn’t it? How I have the means to eat whatever I’d like on a given night, and yet I only ever order what’s been recommended to me, while you on the other hand, tragically suffering for the sake of your art, actually care about the taste of food. ‘The grass is always greener’, and all that, wouldn't you say?”

Yusuke’s fingers twitched over where his phone lie on the table for a moment, before retreating to land on the keyring hanging at his hip instead, allowing the familiar metallic sensation to cool his head. He had half a mind to text Akira, beseeching him to return early from his shopping trip.

Akira’s gentle yet firm insistence that Akechi was a part of the team- at least for the time being- did little to assuage Yusuke’s misgivings at the prospect of throwing him a welcome party. Although Yusuke trusted Akira with his life, it was difficult to fathom his leader’s kindness extending quite this far, given what they knew of Akechi’s plan for the coming weeks. He might even have gone so far as to chalk it up to plain hubris, if he hadn't known Akira well enough. Either way, the fact of the matter was that Yusuke found himself stuck looking after the guest of honor while Akira and the others shopped,  and likely, he thought, because he couldn’t be trusted not to purchase more art supplies. This suggestion came at no small thanks to Futaba, who Yusuke had pointed out was just as likely to sidetrack the group into the nearest electronics store. In that scenario, there was no way that any of them would be returning to the café anytime soon.

Heaving a sigh, as Yusuke ran his thumb over the rough teeth of the center-most key, the tactile sensation brought to mind an exercise that Madarame had guided him through now and then.

“If you’ll excuse me a moment,” he said curtly, sliding out of the booth and heading straight for the refrigerator at the back of the café.

Although Akira had granted him permission to use whatever he found in there for the party, there wasn’t much to be had beyond leftover curry and the makings there of.

Curious, Akechi came to stand over his shoulder. “Kitagawa, I was only kidding! You don’t need to go raiding the Boss’s fridge on my account.”

“While it is for your benefit,” Yusuke said, giving up with a dissatisfied sigh and shutting the door. He’d have to settle on something else. “I will not be the one doing the eating, I’m afraid.”

“Oh?” Akechi questioned, seemingly more amused than annoyed by Yusuke’s sudden whims. The thought briefly crossed his mind that Akechi was somewhat like Akira in that regard, however he quickly banished it. The simple act of passing time with the man who meant to betray their leader couldn’t possibly turn Akechi into anything even slightly akin to Akira. Although Akira had shown Yusuke the path to change, he doubted very much that he himself had the ability to offer the same for anyone, much as he might have wished to contrary.

“Seat yourself on one of the stools, if you please,” Yusuke instructed.

“If you insist.” Akechi complied, going around to the front of the counter before sitting down, one leg crossed over the other.

“Now close your eyes.”

“Seriously?” Akechi laughed, and Yusuke thought that he could see the beginnings of that particular look that people often fixed him with, the one that strangers made when he would stop in the middle of the street to make finger-frames at window mannequins, or when he would snap reference pictures of the lobster tank at the market. Perhaps he truly had been remiss in his brief impression of Akechi from moments before.

“You’re entirely correct in your misgivings at my proposal.”

Akechi blinked. “Am I?”

Yusuke nodded. “If I indeed were to ask such a thing of you, you would most certainly peek.”

“Hey now…” Akechi’s face slipped into a pout of mock offense, the same he often used while on TV. “You’d doubt your own teammate?”

“Frankly, yes,” Yusuke retorted, scanning the room. The dish towels just wouldn’t be quite long enough… _Ah._ “Kindly remove your tie.”

“Are you this demanding with your leader?” Akechi asked, making no move to comply. Yusuke itched to cross the distance between them, undoing it himself, however Ann had once kindly informed him that removing articles of a person’s clothing without permission was generally more or less on the same list as ‘Do not ask people to strip, even if it might be for the sake of art.

“At times, perhaps,” Yusuke admitted, although he fancied himself as having made strides to overcome that minor flaw.

“Well then, I suppose if Kurusu trusts your judgement, so should I,” Akechi said, finally working at the knot.

Yusuke found it somewhat surprising how dexterous he still could be while wearing gloves. The artist had never quite managed to warm up to the constant use of them while in the Metaverse. In his profession, the sense of touch was something vital, the feeling of the brush in his hand serving as a direct connection between himself and the canvas.

Sliding the tie out from beneath his collar, Akechi handed it over to Yusuke, who wasted no time in leaning in close, thighs brushing against Akechi’s knees where he perched up on the raised stool.

Warm breath ghosted over Yusuke’s wrists as he held the silken strip up in front of Akechi's eyes, tying it into a knot that rested in the back of his immaculately styled hair, soft, although not as much so as Akira’s, or so Yusuke imagined while allowing his mind to wander during meetings.

“I know that I heard Kurusu call you a pervert a few times, but I thought he was only kidding,” Akechi chuckled, his fingers drumming against his thigh, and if Yusuke didn’t know better, he’d think that Akechi might be suffering from a bout of nerves.

“You truly don’t care for having your guard let down, do you?” Yusuke observed, finally allowing himself to frame Akechi with his fingers, now that the other boy could no longer see him do so.

“If this takes much longer, the others might come back,” Akechi teased, voice still tinged with a slight undertone of unease.

“I can assure you that little I do will surprise them at this point.” Yusuke smiled wryly, continuing to peer at Akechi through his fingers.

With his sharp eyes obscured, it was easier for Yusuke to focus on Akechi’s other features. Although much of what endeared fans to the detective prince lay in his personality- as much of a farce as it might have been- there certainly was something of a visual appeal to his features, jawline soft to the point of being delicate, expressive lips without even the slightest hint of chapping. The first few times he had ever laid eyes on Akechi, Yusuke had wondered if perhaps he made use of makeup even when outside of the TV studio, however he now became certain than ever that his day-to-day appearance was wholly his own. Either way, it had become more and more difficult with each passing meeting, or ride together in the Mona Bus, or while battling side-by-side in Mementos, to justify to himself the reason that so often his gaze would fall upon his newest teammate.

Finally allowing his frame to part, Yusuke reached into the jar of cookies that Sojiro kept on the counter, removing one at random. While it wasn’t something with a complex profile of flavor, it would have to do for now. Curry might have been messy, and it reminded him far too much of Akira. Perhaps there would be time to repeat the experiment properly before mid-November came around... but Yusuke put a stop to that train of thought. Akechi sat in the café now as a teammate, no more and no less.

“Open your mouth,” Yusuke requested.

Resigned to the fact of Yusuke’s stubbornness, Akechi did as told, allowing his lips to part, a small smacking sound accompanying the motion.

“Take care to consider not only the flavor, but the texture as well," Yusuke instructed, "Although it is said that one eats with his eyes first, there is still something to be said for taste and texture on their own merit.”

Akechi nodded, lips opening wider, head tilting upward in expectation as the cookie was brought nearer to his waiting mouth, Yusuke’s hand moving deliberately, taking in the image set before him. It was merely an artistic exercise, he reminded himself, feeling his wrist threaten to falter. Gently, he pressed the treat to Akechi’s bottom lip, watching as he took a clean bite, lips pursing, cheeks puffing slightly as he chewed, thoughtful crunching the only sound to be heard in the room.

“Well?” Yusuke prompted, as if he had made the cookie himself.

Akechi swallowed, throat bobbing along with a faintly audible gulp. “Is this something they teach over at Kousei?”

Yusuke shook his head, before remembering that Akechi couldn’t see. He was half-way surprised that the detective hadn’t removed the tie himself immediately after the tasting. “It was Madarame who taught me of this exercise. He would sometimes blindfold me, before handing me an object, instructing me to describe it. This eventually extended to food as well, however,” Yusuke’s own lips curved into a frown, “I now suspect that he was merely attempting to slow me down so as I might not eat so much.”

“Your foster father would blindfold you?” It was clear that Akechi raised a brow at this, despite the tie covering the upper portion of his face.

“It…it wasn’t as untoward as it sounds. It now pains me to admit it, but I did learn from him at times.”

“My foster father would tell me to close my eyes too,” Akechi reminisced cheerfully, “And then he’d smack me around until my lip opened up.” He ran his tongue over a spot on his bottom lip, as if still tasting a metallic tang rather than sweet crumbs.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Yusuke apologised weakly. He had never been skilled at comforting people.

“It was a long time ago.” Akechi smiled, moving his hand to hover over the knot. “Now are we done here or…?”

Yusuke glanced at the half-eaten cookie still in his hand, always one to loathe the wasting of food. “Certainly not. You’ve yet to tell me your thoughts on the taste.”

Akechi paused in consideration, hand falling back into his lap. “It was…err…crunchy?” he ventured.

“And…?” Yusuke pressed.

“Kitagawa,” Akechi sighed in exasperation. “I know what cookies taste like. I run a food blog in my spare time, you know.”

Yusuke blinked, aghast at this new information. “You do? Even though you have no preference in the taste of your food? Do you…do you simply _lie_ in your posts?”

Akechi laughed. “You don’t spend much time on the internet, do you?”

“I…Madarame wasn’t much of one for modern technology…” Or at least he hadn't been in the home where Yusuke had lived.

As Yusuke spoke, Akechi raised his hand once more, however this time, he began to grope in the air a time or two in Yusuke’s general direction, before finally finding purchase on his wrist, pulling his hand in close. With a large bite, he was able to finish off the rest of the cookie, teeth grazing over fingertips that came away damp and glistening under the florescent lights.

“Bittersweet,” he proclaimed softly, not releasing his grip on Yusuke.

The brief silence that followed was soon broken by a chime from Yusuke’s phone, left abandoned on the booth table.

“It’s Akira,” he stated quietly, without need to check first. “It must be pertaining as to which ingredients we wish him to acquire.”

Wordlessly, Akechi relinquished his grasp, letting Yusuke free to check his messages as he untied the blindfold himself. Mechanically, he returned it to its place at his neck as if nothing had ever happened, save for the lingering taste on his tongue.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *likes writing fic about eating*  
> *never knows what kind of food to make characters eat*
> 
>  As always, I'm on both [Tumblr](https://evil-muffins.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mikan_komaeda), where I post writing updates


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